Mediterranean Cruise

Last November we went for a cruise with Helen and David. It all worked very well. Everyone enjoyed it. This November we thought we would do something similar but on a different ship and a different itinerary. First significant change was that we were sailing from Marseilles. To get there would be a short road trip. We like road trips. Helen organised this one. Diane and I had hoped for a gentle and relaxed journey. Not a chance. First day was a 6am start for a mad thrash down the motorways to Dover. Next morning saw us up at 6am, again, to catch the ferry. Toll motorways to Epernay. A short break to taste and buy champagne. Arrived at the rented bungalow late and crawled into bed. Next day things began to get easier. We had time for breakfast before a relatively easy drive to a lovely hotel in a big old, rambling building. The fabulous evening meal was a highlight but also came with a fabulous bill. And so, to Marseilles where we arrived in the evening and found absolutely nowhere to park. Fortunately, the hotel manager moved his car to give us space. This was a great relief because we were starting to wonder if we would need to a find a different hotel with enough space to unload David in his electric wheelchair. Seeing the progressive deterioration in Dave’s condition is always upsetting. There is also the very practical consideration that every aspect of his life just keeps getting harder. On the previous cruise we had been able to use a conventional wheelchair that could be lifted and man-handled. Now, David is totally dependant on his electric wheelchair. Great bit of kit but way too heavy to lift.

Next morning, we were welcomed onto our ship for the next ten days. The MSC Divina. Quite a bit older than our previous cruise ship, the MSC Virtuosa, but equally enormous. Our cabin was lovely. Nice sized double bed and a small balcony. Diane and I got settled in, Helen and David got settled in and then we all met for lunch and a glass of champagne. We were pleased that we had made it to Marseille with any real problems. Helen does not consider getting up at 6am as a problem. We were looking forward to some relaxing days with a little bit of indulgence. In the evening we sailed for Genova, all was good.

From the port, Genoa is a solid, pressing mass of buildings going up the hillside around the docks. We found ourselves constrained to a narrow strip close to the coast. Beyond that the streets were just too steep. No matter, there was still plenty to see. I was delighted to come across a Focacciaria, a small shop selling variants of Focaccia Genovese – a light and tasty flat bread baked in big trays. This was served with a local pesto sauce. Genoa is famous for growing basil, the key ingredient of a traditional pesto. The result was, frankly, spectacular. Back on board by late afternoon, we broke out the cocktails as the ship left port in the evening sun. I discovered a cocktail with chilli and dried orange that was surprisingly good.

Next day we arrived in Barcelona. Sunny, bright and colourful. We headed out to Las Ramblas street. Originally this was a sewage-filled stream forming an important drain especially during the heavy rains of spring and autumn. In 1440, the stream was diverted to be outside the newly built city walls and since then the street has become an increasingly popular hub of urban life. The street is very crowded but also wide and open. Since 1703 it has been lined with trees and although the open-air markets for birds and small animals have been banned since 2010 there are still a wide variety of birds, including parrots, flying around. Small stalls, market traders, entertainers and side shows abound. You can easily spend a full day wandering around, taking in the sights and sounds while nibbling at tapas from the enormous range of restaurants. This was exactly how we passed the afternoon before heading back to the ship to prepare for Africa.

We had a day at sea while we steamed towards Morocco. In the morning, I hopped out of bed with bare feet straight onto a wet carpet. Some problem with the bathroom plumbing apparently. I did not want to know the details and washed my feet anyhow. We moved to a fresh cabin on another deck. Of course, we had to pack up first and then unpack. This all took a couple of hours and was a bit irritating. In fact, irritation became a bit of theme for this ship. On the Virtuosa, the yacht club dining room was on a mezzanine level above the bar. Fabulous views and very convenient. Here on the Divina, it was at the other end of the ship. To get there with David meant taking a lift down nine levels, walking the length of the ship and then going back up nine levels. There were often queues for the lifts so this route could easily take ten minutes. Does not sound too bad until you consider ten minutes each way for three meals a day by which time you have wasted an hour. For all that, the restaurant was cramped and had no views at all.

Casablanca, if I am honest, is a bit tricky as a tourist destination. The largest city in Morocco is also the country’s economic and business centre. The port is enormous, but it is a working port. Thousands of containers being moved around, bulk carriers getting loaded, a steady flow of commercial vessels in and out. In the distance the city, a massive commercial block, rises out of the dusty gloom. It is not very appealing. A handful of the more dedicated tourists booked trips although even then it is probably an hour or two of driving to see anything interesting. Morocco is a fascinating place. Golden sand dunes, amazing mountains, vest seascapes and ancient buildings. The trouble is that none of these places are anywhere near Casablanca. Quite why the ship docked here is anybody’s guess but I am fairly sure it was not for the benefit of the passengers. Getting David onto a bus was going to be impossible and when Helen and David first attempted to disembark, they were told that the tide was too high. They did eventually get off. David got to step foot (wheel) in Africa. They walked down to the security fence and got a stamp for his passport and then that was Morocco and Africa done. Next stop, the Canary Islands.

Tenerife is an immensely popular tourist destination. With five million visitors a year it is a major worldwide destination and one of the most important to Spain. The larger proportion of visitors are from the UK as it quite evident from the abundance of chip shops and Irish bars. The municipality of Adeje in the south of the island has the highest concentration of 5-star hotels in Europe and Spain’s best luxury hotel. For our part, we went for a walk round a park and ate some chips. Next day was supposed to be Madeira but a port pilot’s strike put paid to that so we had two days in Santa Cruz instead. This meant, come evening , that we could eschew the ship’s restaurant and sneak out for a curry. Turned out to be a properly excellent meal that we all thoroughly enjoyed. Next day Helen and Dave managed to have a fabulous day out in a taxi which was capable of taking the electric wheelchair. I don’t know the details, but they came back buzzing after being shown around the greater part of the island.

Late afternoon we sailed for Malaga. A two-day trip to the ever-popular Costa del Sun. Popular with the British that is. The trip was essentially uneventful. The sun shined. We explored alternative restaurants. Helen and Diane wallowed in the hot tub. I read a book.

We set off quite early to see Malaga and ended up on an open-topped tour bus. The pre-recorded commentary was desperately boring and delivered in a monotone. Rather than fall asleep I gave up with the earpiece and just looked as what was around us. Malaga seems to be quite a vibrant combination of beaches, bars, and restaurants surrounding a historic centre of narrow streets and old buildings. Having circumnavigated the city we hopped off near the port and attempted to find a restaurant, a tapas bar, that had been recommended to us. We did find it and so did several hundreds of other people. The queue was immense, so we gave up and settled for some perfectly delicious tapas at a smaller and less popular restaurant. The rest of the day was quite a long walk back to the ship where we started packing in preparation for returning to Marseilles the next day.

The return trip was easier. We even had time to stop off for a small tour round a champagne vineyard. Michel Fagot – possibly my new favourite champagne. We split the UK leg into a much more pleasant two days and all arrived back in Todmorden safely.